Ardbert's starting to settle in. He feels good enough to be out on his own and making his own friendships independently from either of them. Being alive seems more real every day.
Being alive means that your steps make sound against the wood and being able to let out an audible gasp as you stops in front of you door and see it properly for the first time. Loud enough for the responsible party to hear it if he only listens for it. Or for your heart to suddenly hammer as you reach out and touch the stained glass, tracing the mountains.
His mouth is partially open. The corner of his eyes burn. Something deep within him settles. Ardbert closes his mouth forcibly and rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, then the tips of his fingers, staring at the door again. Only then does he enter his room after a long delay to look at the door from the other side.
He flicks the light on and admires the door some more before heading back out into the hall and shutting the door behind him. Ardbert stays there for a while, simply taking in the view.
This is home.
Eventually his brain notes the light coming out of Emet-Selch's door and he forces his gaze to look at it instead. He didn't need to do this. There was no benefit for him. Yet he had out of a simple awareness that, subconsciously, Ardbert had felt a less important member of the house with a normal door. Even though he had rationalized and understood that he simply wasn't there when the originals were made.
Part of him has felt like a useless third wheel since he got here. Era could never know—it would wound her too deeply to know that Ardbert hadn't fully felt like he belonged. He still doesn't, but now he knows, knows, that it won't always be that way. Era wasn't the only one that had to accept his presence.
Ardbert feels that swell of emotion again as he continues looking towards Hades door. He could wait until he was fully in command of his emotions, but the Ascian deserves to see how much he's moved by the effort. Let him gloat if he wishes.
He knocks on the door, slightly embarrassed when his voice cracks on a name that finally feels easier to say. "Hades?"
"Come in." The response seems to almost have been waiting for the question, though the tone is a bit tired. Some things are simply inevitable, after all.
(When you live enough lifetimes, you see people you knew, people you loved, in a thousand faces, over and over again.)
And indeed, after Ardbert opens the door, Hades looks to be a bit tired, compared to his usual self. He's hardly been bedbound, sitting at the desk chair with its back spun to whatever project lies across it, but he leans back in the chair with the look of someone who has spent their day's reserve of energy and then some, but still has to be awake.
There is, however, that small smile, the one that isn't gloating or mocking or smug, on his face.
He's never heard Hades sound properly tired before, although he's entirely unsurprised that Hades had simply been waiting for him to knock. It's predictable that Ardbert would immediately seek him out upon finding his present, and part of Ardbert was still used to Renda-Rae always knowing when to expect him. Instead of ears, Hades just has his mind.
Ardbert sees the voice matches Hades's actual energy levels. Which has him floored. Hades didn't just make him something but made him something that took depleted his energy reserves. Something that took effort. Ardbert only knows enough about art and stained glass to know that the planning took even more effort. You don't just snap your fingers to make it. The work takes time and deliberation, and only afterwards, takes a large amount of aether.
Hades small smile, just for him, makes him feel the assessment is right—and brings a stupidly warm feeling to his chest as he starts to realize what Era must see in him.
"... Thank you." Ardbert enters the room and ever so gently shuts the door behind him before heading to the reading chair he's sat in a couple of times.
Permission to sit there is implicit now, which is odd in itself.
"Really... thank you." Ardbert tries to convey how much it means to him in his voice without it being too much of a burden; he leans forward as he speaks to be closer.
"I can only hope I've gotten the details right," comes the reply, quiet, almost somber. "I admit, I never did see Voeburt before the touch of the fae changed it from what you must remember."
Il Mheg stands on enough ruins that he can make some number of guesses, but that isn't the same as having seen the original, any more than the murals in the Qitana Ravel are a replacement for Amaurot. It both is and isn't an acceptance of the thanks, the way he says it.
"Much as the castle standing vigil over the lakebed is a marvel, I can only hope to imagine the city in its prime."
And that is something in common, even if on vastly different timescales - homelands lost, claimed by the eternal tomb of the water until they become dust and disappear.
Hades has just made perhaps the single nicest gift that anyone's given him since he can remember. Era had given him clothes and much more beside, but this is different. The amount of thought, the amount of aether, the fact he did his best to pull back the sands of time in his mind to make as close to an approximation of its former glory as possible. It acknowledges what he's been through, what his world has been through. Does he know how his friends sacrificed themselves to stop the Flood?
"You captured it; I almost cried upon the sight of it," Ardbert tells him without shame. "It reminded me of the first time I saw it when I was still a boy. We got there early in the day for a festival, the sun just about ready to rise when we first saw it."
His hometown had been on the edge of the kingdom. Ardbert isn't sure how Hades knew, or guessed correctly, but he's too afraid to ask. You don't look a gift Amaro in the mouth. This has already made him too full of emotion already.
It's a statement that isn't entirely lost on Ardbert. He saw Hades reveal of the fall of Amarout. The shades, including that of Hythlodaeus. Hades, more than anyone, understands the loss of everything important to you.
Perhaps Ardbert can never truly understand what Hades went through, but Hades can understand what Ardbert went through almost effortlessly. The fact he's gone to the length at all to ease Ardbert's heart with a memory of home with such an attention to detail. He'll be stuck on the magnitude of the gift for a long time. There will be plenty of times in the future where his eyes will simply follow the curves of lead or whatever it is holding the pieces together when he needs a moment to simply exist.
"It's no wonder you saw me," Ardbert remembers their first discussion, meaning it just as a off-hand comment. "You're welcome. ... you should get some sleep. This took a lot out of you to make, didn't it?"
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Being alive means that your steps make sound against the wood and being able to let out an audible gasp as you stops in front of you door and see it properly for the first time. Loud enough for the responsible party to hear it if he only listens for it. Or for your heart to suddenly hammer as you reach out and touch the stained glass, tracing the mountains.
His mouth is partially open. The corner of his eyes burn. Something deep within him settles. Ardbert closes his mouth forcibly and rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, then the tips of his fingers, staring at the door again. Only then does he enter his room after a long delay to look at the door from the other side.
He flicks the light on and admires the door some more before heading back out into the hall and shutting the door behind him. Ardbert stays there for a while, simply taking in the view.
This is home.
Eventually his brain notes the light coming out of Emet-Selch's door and he forces his gaze to look at it instead. He didn't need to do this. There was no benefit for him. Yet he had out of a simple awareness that, subconsciously, Ardbert had felt a less important member of the house with a normal door. Even though he had rationalized and understood that he simply wasn't there when the originals were made.
Part of him has felt like a useless third wheel since he got here. Era could never know—it would wound her too deeply to know that Ardbert hadn't fully felt like he belonged. He still doesn't, but now he knows, knows, that it won't always be that way. Era wasn't the only one that had to accept his presence.
Ardbert feels that swell of emotion again as he continues looking towards Hades door. He could wait until he was fully in command of his emotions, but the Ascian deserves to see how much he's moved by the effort. Let him gloat if he wishes.
He knocks on the door, slightly embarrassed when his voice cracks on a name that finally feels easier to say. "Hades?"
no subject
(When you live enough lifetimes, you see people you knew, people you loved, in a thousand faces, over and over again.)
And indeed, after Ardbert opens the door, Hades looks to be a bit tired, compared to his usual self. He's hardly been bedbound, sitting at the desk chair with its back spun to whatever project lies across it, but he leans back in the chair with the look of someone who has spent their day's reserve of energy and then some, but still has to be awake.
There is, however, that small smile, the one that isn't gloating or mocking or smug, on his face.
no subject
Ardbert sees the voice matches Hades's actual energy levels. Which has him floored. Hades didn't just make him something but made him something that took depleted his energy reserves. Something that took effort. Ardbert only knows enough about art and stained glass to know that the planning took even more effort. You don't just snap your fingers to make it. The work takes time and deliberation, and only afterwards, takes a large amount of aether.
Hades small smile, just for him, makes him feel the assessment is right—and brings a stupidly warm feeling to his chest as he starts to realize what Era must see in him.
"... Thank you." Ardbert enters the room and ever so gently shuts the door behind him before heading to the reading chair he's sat in a couple of times.
Permission to sit there is implicit now, which is odd in itself.
"Really... thank you." Ardbert tries to convey how much it means to him in his voice without it being too much of a burden; he leans forward as he speaks to be closer.
no subject
Il Mheg stands on enough ruins that he can make some number of guesses, but that isn't the same as having seen the original, any more than the murals in the Qitana Ravel are a replacement for Amaurot. It both is and isn't an acceptance of the thanks, the way he says it.
"Much as the castle standing vigil over the lakebed is a marvel, I can only hope to imagine the city in its prime."
And that is something in common, even if on vastly different timescales - homelands lost, claimed by the eternal tomb of the water until they become dust and disappear.
no subject
"You captured it; I almost cried upon the sight of it," Ardbert tells him without shame. "It reminded me of the first time I saw it when I was still a boy. We got there early in the day for a festival, the sun just about ready to rise when we first saw it."
His hometown had been on the edge of the kingdom. Ardbert isn't sure how Hades knew, or guessed correctly, but he's too afraid to ask. You don't look a gift Amaro in the mouth. This has already made him too full of emotion already.
"It's beautiful."
no subject
But he gives a slow, simple bow in return, an acknowledgement. "Thank you."
no subject
Perhaps Ardbert can never truly understand what Hades went through, but Hades can understand what Ardbert went through almost effortlessly. The fact he's gone to the length at all to ease Ardbert's heart with a memory of home with such an attention to detail. He'll be stuck on the magnitude of the gift for a long time. There will be plenty of times in the future where his eyes will simply follow the curves of lead or whatever it is holding the pieces together when he needs a moment to simply exist.
"It's no wonder you saw me," Ardbert remembers their first discussion, meaning it just as a off-hand comment. "You're welcome. ... you should get some sleep. This took a lot out of you to make, didn't it?"